Paralysis Apprentice
by Star Ravager
Summary: Abandoned: What if your worst enemy offered you something you could never refuse? What if he had a way to bring back the only thing you desired? Would you accept their transaction? But at what terms? Slade gives Robin the chance to walk again after an acc
1. Bleed it Out

**A/N;** Alright. I'm revising this- I'm starting over. Completely. I won't update every day, but I will not abandon this again. I didn't know where I was going with this before, but now I have an idea. Slade won't be in character, simply because he is such a complex character that astounds me… leaves me thinking much too hard. Robin is also a character that people have different versions of. Either he is still a teenaged boy or he wants to grow. I have the latter.

This is also **AU**, it doesn't follow any strict path, it will not necessarily follow DC or anything of the sort...its just my drabble with Slade and Robin. And no, there is no slash or romantic pairs.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Summary:** What if your worst enemy offered you something you could never refuse? What if he had a way to bring back the only thing you desired? Would you accept their transaction? But at what terms?

**Chapter One; Prologue **

Deathstroke made his way over to the running helicopter on the bare black top. The night helped to cover his departure as he climbed gracefully in the seat. He didn't have to look back in order to see one of his men following behind him. William Wintergreen, an old friend of his, agreed to come along with him as he initiated his mission. A mission that was an absolute waste of time. But alas, time wasn't something he measured quite frequently but the past year seemed to drag on.

He had spent that year traveling around the world; North America, Japan, China, South America, Australia, and even the damned Netherlands. His hunt was to narrow his sights on someone; a worthy pupil that would learn from him and stand by his side faithfully. An apprentice who would be loyal to his commands and orders- that's what he searched for. And true, he was successful, countless of times. He had found someone, a young boy around eighteen. But nonetheless, he wasn't dedicated to his arts.

After going through countless of young men and women, both with superpowers and just plain humans, he was able to pick up even the slightest fault to their character, from being a pessimist to a nail biter. No one was good enough for him. No one but that boy- the same one he had compared every young adult to.

Robin.

The boy had so much determination and drive for being just a small, mortal, human. The similarities between Robin and Slade were remarkable; it was something fate intended- to have Robin at his side. The overwhelming urge to have Robin in his possession sent anticipation through Deathstroke. Here he was, finally looking forward to his next project. He _would _have Robin on his own terms. Before, when he tried to make Robin his apprentice, he had thought he was dealing with a young boy, but this time around he knew Robin was far older than his intended age. He would have to deal with Robin as an adult… his way.

Nodding toward the pilot, Deathstroke watched as Wintergreen slammed the door shut behind him. The man was old, but he clearly moved as if he were younger. They were on their way toward Gotham City. His first plan of action was to get to know his apprentice inside and out. He knew a few hazy details of Robin's past but he was going to his bird's old city to clear them up.

Not even the Bat would stand in the way of his apprentice.

**--Paralysis Apprentice--**

Beast Boy and Cyborg were fighting again- over breakfast and what to have, meat or tofu? Robin frowned as he listened to the argument from the wooden stool in the kitchen. Beast Boy and Cyborg had been going at it for over ten minutes, the same argument ever since the Titians had gotten together. They were his friends, but they needed to grow up someday and compromise together without someone having to treat them like children.

Standing up, Robin went to the refrigerator and opened the orange juice carton and swallowed the cold liquid. "Dude, that's sick, haven't you heard of a glass?" Robin ignored the green boy and shut the carton, placing it back in the refrigerator. He swept past them and made his way to the workout room.

"Where are you going? I was just going to make breakfast!" Cyborg shouted at the leader's retreating back.

Robin shut the door to the workout room and started on the punching bag, his thoughts were clouding his head, making it difficult to concentrate on the motions.

Kick

_My teammates need to grow up sometime and realize there are bigger things in life than what we're having for breakfast._

Punch

_We haven't seen Slade in a whole year. After he helped us with Trigon he vanished without even a trail to where he went… why would I even care? His mind probably isn't centered on me all the time, so why do I think about him all the time? _

Scissor Kick

_Raven is off in her own mind again, and Starfire is still naive, I really thought she would get past this stage. No one trains or works around the tower, and when I set up a date for a team workout they all…_

Flip

_Screw_

Right hook

_Around!_

After another couple of minutes of aggressive moves and twists, Robin put his hands on his waist and breathed in deeply. It seemed no matter how much he tried, how much he practiced, it was if he wasn't getting any better. Something was missing, and he hated not knowing what it was. Even trying new moves seemed like he was doing them all wrong. And Jump City was winding down in the crime rate. That was a good thing, but he wasn't getting any practice with fighting Control Freak all the time.

What he needed was a real opponent.

What he needed was Slade. Where was he? What was he up to?

Robin growled and punched the bag, making it swing ruthlessly back in forth. A knock at the door made Robin put out a hand to stop the rocking bag. Just as he got it and himself under control, the door opened revealing a smiling Starfire.

"Hello, Robin! The breakfast is ready." Robin gave an attempted smile, but the corners of his mouth refused to lift on their own accord. He watched as the alien's eyes shined in bemusement, but within seconds they were shining truly.

"Thanks, Star, but I won't be eating; I have to work on this move that I can't get right." Starfire gave a smile and put a hand on Robin's shoulder.

"Maybe I can help you with it?" Their eyes were locked, hers full of trust and hope, his- masked and tired. She was someone who would do anything for the people she loved. All the Titians were like Starfire, so why did Robin feel so alone? Simply because he was growing up while they still wanted to be children. Robin shook his head and brushed off the hand on his shoulder.

"No thanks Starfire, you go ahead." He started on the punching bag again and only when he heard the door shut once more did he allow himself to place his sweaty forehead against the bag and sigh in defeat.

**--Paralysis Apprentice--**

Adrenaline seeped its way through Robin as he looked at the scene. It was his first real fight. Of course, it wasn't any Slade, but this was as close as it could get. It would be a challenge, something that he found thrill of doing.

A larger version of Cinderblock was marching down the street. It didn't seem in the least bit caring as he stepped on the bystanders running away from him. The monster was making its way toward the city, where most the civilians were. The inhabitants of Jump were screaming as the cement streets and paved sidewalks split open under the force of the monster's weight. Stores that lined the streets were trembling and glass windows shattered nosily in the monster's wake.

"Titans, Go!" He couldn't help as a silly grin spread wide on his face as he charged along with the rest of his team.

But the monster would prove to be a bigger threat than he had originally thought.

Starfire's starbolts hardly made any effect on the monster and Cyborg's sonic cannon never even made the giant flinch. Raven was trying her best, launching objects toward it with black magic surrounding it, and Beast Boy changed into multiple animals, trying to get the best of him near its feet.

As one of Raven's objects hit the monster in the neck, it faltered if it was affected. A weak spot in such a giant was normal; it was just a matter of time finding it. Everything was built with a flaw.

"Starfire! Lift me up. Raven, hold your fire!" The red haired alien flew over to her leader and hooked her hands around his arms. They flew through the air and she dropped him on the giant's shoulder while he retracted his Bo staff. If he could strike it in the neck he could weaken the giant considerably, which would make it more tolerant to the attacks. He brought down his staff, but before he could connect it at the monster's neck, Raven took that moment to toss a streetlamp at the giant. It hit the stone monster, but it also clipped Robin across the head- sending his vision black for a moment's time.

He dropped his Bo staff and tried to grip onto something that would keep him upon the giant, but his fingers connected with only air. His vision was still blurry as he fell off the giant and grabbed for his grappling hook. He squinted as he tried to make out _one_ of the building, not three. His vision was swimming as he shot his grappling hook. Alas, it never hit its target.

Flashes from the past appeared to the front of his vision. Both his parent's frightening faces… were it to be his same fate?

No, Starfire would help him. She would come flying down within seconds like she usually does- and if not her, than Raven or Beast Boy. His body twisted in an awkward position, and his stomach gave a heave as he saw the ground coming up faster.

Where were they?

Fear and confusion swamped his thoughts. This was it. The same way his parents died. He wondered briefly if Slade would mourn for his lost enemy. Would Batman even care? Would his friends argue over his death? Who would help them decide tofu or bacon?

Robin attempted to twist his body in a more manageable fall, but the velocity in which he fell was too great and the fear suffocated his mind.

His eyes slammed shut and his arms outstretched as he landed profoundly on the cement street. The wind knocked the breath out of him and for a moment all he could think about was his breathing. Not only that, but he was actually… in pain. He wasn't dead. How could he be alive?

His eyes cracked open to see Starfire whirl toward him from across the street, her mouth open in horror and tears pooled in her green eyes as they widened comically. He seethed with anger as he placed his cheek on the rough, sandy, ground. He was alive now, but broken. More ways than one.

But a brief moment went by and he realized that Starfire froze not from his fall, but from the dark shadow growing closer to Robin. His eyes looked upward and witnessed the giant's foot coming closer to his body. Robin rolled aside as fast as his broken body would allow him. He was sure that he got his whole body out of the way, but it was a lost cause when he felt the heavy weight push down on his body. Never before had he felt this pain before.

The stone giant's heel came down on his lower back and he could feel his spinal cord shatter like broken glass and his lungs were flattened to the ground. Now he couldn't breathe...

Throughout Jump City, a cold, penetrating, scream filled everyone's ears.


	2. Memories Consume

**  
****Chapter Two; Memories Consume **

"_A__re you excited to go to the circus, Adam?" The camera turned to face a small boy around four years of age. Thin arms encircled his mother's neck as he was settled in her arms. Wide brown eyes looked back at the camera. _

"_Yes!"_ Wintergreen sighed and brought his attention toward Slade who had taken position on a table and was silently watching the homemade camcorder.

Effortlessly, Deathstroke had broken in the police records without alerting anyone of their presence. And then William had watched his old friend pull out everything on a Grayson, Richard, and surprisingly he found an old homemade video. William had heard a lot about this Robin from Slade. It was odd hearing him talk fondly about anyone, a child no less... For over a year the mercenary had gone through countless of younglings, always comparing them to the boy wonder. From what Wintergreen heard and gathered, Robin was a lot like Slade in many ways and that drove Slade over the edge in gaining possession of the boy.

"Kindly remove your eyes from me, Wintergreen, and watch the clip." A smirk tugged at Wintergreen's mouth but he complied, bringing his attention back on the screen.

"_What are you excited to see at the circus?" _Wintergreen rolled his eyes upward. They could've fast forwarded the tape, but it was like Slade to watch every single detail, no matter how small it seemed.

"What does this have to do with your apprentice, Slade?" Without removing his eye from the screen, Deathstroke hissed out calmly.

"Patience, Wintergreen." Patience was Slade's specialty, not his. Just as he was about to announce he was going to step out the stuffy room, something moved from the corner of his eye. He turned and witnessed a shadow outside the door… Tensing, William quietly moved to the dark part of the room and hissed out a warning to Slade. The man appeared as if he didn't hear him, instead, his eye was fixated on the screen.

Without another second, the door burst open and a man that appeared to be a night guard pointed his gun at Slade, not seeing Wintergreen in the dark corner.

"_Freeze_, you're under arrest for breaking and ent-," Deathstroke clicked the hand gun in his hand and within seconds he shot the man in the center of the forehead.

Wintergreen blinked as the body fell stiffly on the ground. Slade had done that without taking his eyes off the television in just a matter of seconds. He would've been impressed, but this was sloppy work for Slade. He had never killed like this before, he was impatient right now and Wintergreen knew what was causing it… or _who_ was causing it. No one got under Slade's skin like this… _boy_ did.

"He might've called for back up Sla-," The mercenary held up a hand toward Wintergreen. Pursing his lips together, William leaned against the wall in annoyance.

"_The elephants and the acr- acro." Adam looked perplexed at the word he was trying to pronounce. _

"_The acrobats?" His mother laughed at Adam's enthusiastic nod. _

Wintergreen ignored the rest of the sappy conversation until they reached the inside of the circus. He had never been inside of one and it shocked him that people actually worked there for a living… gypsies.

"_And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, The Flying Graysons!" _Grayson. Wintergreen gave a breathless chuckle. "Your apprentice was in the circus? A… a gypsy? Did you know that?" Slade didn't reply, but he leaned forward in interest.

_The lights went off and the spotlights over the swings turned on. The audience was going wild as three figures swung back and forth on ropes that were a very high distance from the floor. _

The camera tried to zoom in when the three landed and Wintergreen smirked as his eyes landed on the small boy. The boy had big blue eyes, the same as the woman standing next to him… and Slade's. He looked over at his friend to see his eye fixed intentionally on his younger apprentice.

_The father and mother were both short and lithe, obviously Robin got his statue from them… the lights dimmed and Richard grabbed the swing at the edge of the platform after getting a kiss on the forehead from his mother. _

Wintergreen frowned, "He's not actually going to do this, is he? He must be younger than seven." Slade's gloved hand made a fist at his side from Wintergreen's chatter and kept his eye on the screen.

"There is a net below him and he was born to two acrobats. I think he will be fine; now if you would _shut_ your mouth, Wintergreen, and watch the film."

_Richard looked back at his mom and gave her a smile and nodded toward his father across the platform. Adrenaline surged through his body as he pushed off the platform. He wanted to impress everyone in the audience, especially his parents. He knew he should've told them about that man threatening the circus leader, but he didn't know it would be such a big deal. Maybe after the performance he would tell them. _

_But right now, he needed to clear his head and focus on the routine. Gasps sounded throughout the tent as he did a flip in midair and a smirk appeared on his face. He couldn't wait to hear what they would do when he did his final move. His parents had practiced with him for countless of hours to prefect it and Richard new he could pull it off perfectly. _

_Gripping the swing, he swung his momentum backwards, gripping for the next swing over. Everything on the swings seemed natural to him. He wasn't afraid to fall, and he wasn't afraid to mess up. He knew where the swing was before he grabbed it, and he knew the precise moment it came swinging back toward him. _

_He saw his father get on the swing toward the platform, ready to catch him in midair as he did the finale. _

_He took a deep breath and as he swung toward his mother he pushed his body weight behind him, doing a backwards somersault. Not one, not two, but three times in the air without any aid from the swing. As he rounded his fourth, he started to fall, and two strong hands caught him before he could do any damage. _

_He smiled as his father pulled him up on the platform. His father would always be there for him, would always help him up when he was down._

_His father gave a laugh and ruffled his hair with a proud gesture. And at that moment it didn't matter that the whole audience where on their feet, clapping and cheering for an encore, it mattered to him that both his parents were beaming with pride and admiration. At _him

Wintergreen blinked and took a breath for the first time since the performance started.

"The boy is a natural. Brilliant for how young he is… was." Slade nodded in agreement, a small smirk on his face.

_With one last ruffle of his hair, his father prepared for his wife and his performance. The last one of the day. It was without a net, which was why Richard couldn't perform with his parents. But he knew they would do perfect. _

_He watched in awe as they worked together on cue and amazed the audience. He knew he would be just as great as them when he got older. A bright smile appeared on his face as they flipped safely toward the next swing. Things were perfect. Just brilliant._

_A 'snap' sounded in his ears and his smile dimmed significantly. He watched in horror as his parents tried to grip the swing, their only road to safety, when it snapped from the wire all the way. _

_His blue eyes watched as his parents faces turned in terror and their bodies started flipping in awkward positions in the air on the way to the ground. A part of Richard wanted to join them in their fall, but his feet stayed rooted to the spot. Twin snaps sounded throughout the tent as their bodies hit the floor, necks and legs bent in the opposite direction they should've been. _

_Silence was thick in the audience until screams of shock and horror traveled into Richard's ears. He should've dashed down the platform to their bodies, but his knees gave out underneath him and his mind was numb as he just stared at his parents… his lifeline to life. _

"_Ah!"_ His throat was raw as he struggled against the bindings holding him down. He had _that_ dream again. That nightmare. But this time, he wasn't waking up in his room in the Titans tower. This time he was lying on a stiff bored and an iron smelling substance stung at his nose. Everything in his vision was blurry and he panicked.

He rammed his chest into the bindings and tossed his head furiously, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel his legs… he couldn't kick at his captors. Hoarse screaming was heard in the tiny space that held him captive and his mind realized that it was _him_ who was crying and screaming, but he couldn't stop no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

Why were his legs numb? Why did his head seem like it was cracked open?

A hand started to stroke his hair, attempting to soothe him, but it didn't help. "Hush, it's alright. We're here to help you." A comforting voice sounded above his head, but Robin didn't calm down. Where was he? Where were those sirens coming from?

"You're on the way to the hospital. You had a terrible fall, but you're going to be ok." A sharp needle was inserted into his arm and he felt himself become droopy and hazed from the drug.

"Legs…spine…no hope…walk…." Pieces of conversation ran into Robin's sleep daze before he blacked out.

**--PA--**

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the waiting room of the Wayne Memorial Clinic. He had heard about the accident concerning Richard from the Teen Titans and called the medical crew to transport him over to the Wayne Clinic. He had heard nothing about Richard's condition and he was starting to get more anxious.

Looking around at the other people in the hospital, he stood up and started pacing back and forth. He knew the men and women's eyes were on him… due to being the most rich and famous person in Gotham City. They probably wondered what he was doing here.

If something happened to Richard their identities could be discovered… no, he couldn't think like this. Richard was going to be perfectly fine. Both their identities were safe for the time being with a cover Robin now located in Jump City. He had convinced Tim Drake to take Richard's place for awhile, or as long as it took for Richard to get better.

"Mr. Wayne?" Bruce turned around to face Dr. Thompkins, the only one who knew of Bruce's secret identity.

"How is he?" Leslie took a deep breath and motioned for Bruce to follow her down the ER ward. Just from the look on her face, Bruce's chest gave a heave.

"He's in a coma. He had a shocking trauma and his body shut down in order to accommodate the change. He had two broken ribs, both his legs are broken, and there was a large cut on his face that we had to stitch up. It will probably scar for the rest of his life…" She paused, but from her posture, Bruce knew she wasn't finished.

They walked down the long hallway, and Bruce smelt the strong sent of death and suffering. The two stopped at room thirteen and they looked inside the window at Richard. Bruce hadn't seen his ward in a long time, but the boy looked so small lying in the bed. He could see the scar that formed above the eyebrow and slanted diagonally down across his right eye and stopped above his cheekbone. The child's skin was pale, almost as pale as the sterile sheets surrounding him. Thick casts were embracing both of his legs and wires were connecting themselves in the boy's skin.

"Was his eye affected? Will his legs heal correctly?" His voice sounded grim to him.

"No. There was no inflammation in the eye, and there will be no disfigurement. Except for the scar of course. He will see perfectly fine after a couple of days after it heals." Her voice grew heavy as she said the next words. "And his legs… they will heal correctly." They sat there in silence watching as Richard's small chest rose and fell by itself.

"And?" Bruce questioned, still not connecting the dots to the information she withheld. "Will he be able to be back to the swing of things after he heals?" Leslie remained tight-lipped, her eyes looking at Richard's limp form. Bruce's or rather Batman's temper got the better of him and his voice rose considerably. "Damn it Leslie! Tell me!" She wasn't affected by his voice and kept her stare on the prone body.

"He's paralyzed from the waist down. His spinal cord was shattered." Bruce sucked in his breath, and frowned at the doctor.

"Will you be able to-,"

"No. There is nothing to help him, Bruce. I'm sorry." Bruce turned his back to her as he put a hand to his face. This couldn't happen. What was he to do now? Richard would be devastated… He could hear the doctor's heels tap on the floor as they entered Richard's room and came back out to him.

"I'm going to be out of the state for a few weeks, Bruce. So there are going to be other doctors on watch for Richard. Of course they won't know _who_ he is, but will care for him." She paused and handed him a clipboard, not looking at his face. "Since the damage is so high and severe we will need a signature to admit him the necessary antibiotics. If we don't give him these shots, he could likely die from infection, or acquire a hospital illness." Bruce took the clipboard and studied it.

"If the antibiotics are so important to him, why do you require a signature?" She took a deep breath and glanced at Richard, pushing her blonde hair back, creating more of a mess with it.

"With an injury like Richard's sometimes the family will want their loved one to… acquire an illness and die, rather than being in a wheelchair the rest of their life… and some are too poor to afford treatment such as this." Bruce stared at the clipboard and back at Richard.

Leslie caught his expression and scowled at him. "Sign it, Bruce. Do you want Richard to die? The same boy _you_ would die for?" She couldn't believe that the man was actually considering not signing it.

Her eyes were grimly locked on the clipboard as Bruce handed it back to her… without the signature. "You don't know Richard like I do, Leslie. If he knew that he couldn't run or fight again, it would eat him alive. Fighting crime is the only thing in life that kept him sane since his parents died."

Tears stung her eyes and shaking fingers clutched the board to her chest. "The boy is too young to die, Bruce. Not everything in life is about fighting crime. He could be a detective and still be in a wheelchair…you could adapt him into this new life. Now is the time he needs guidance."

"You know I don't have time for that. I can't see him like this." His voice seemed to take on a higher pitch as he avoided looking at the thin, pale, form of his ward. Perhaps… perhaps Bruce was too shocked at the moment? "He will never be happy like this, Leslie. I can't, he'll be better off." Bruce shook his head and started to walk away, never looking back.

"Better off dead?" She whispered at the back of the Dark Knight. There had to be a rational explanation why Bruce wouldn't sign. Just by seeing him avoiding the sight of Richard made her realize that he was in denial. This was affecting him much more than he let on. She would've, could've, signed for Bruce, but he was the legal guardian of Richard. And if she was caught signing it… she would have to face the government, something she didn't want for herself, or her family.

She looked over at the boy, lying so helpless in bed and gave a prayer to the Gods that Richard remain strong until Bruce straightened out.

* * *

**A/N: I**_** know**_** that Tim Drake didn't go this early to the Teen Titans, and the whole time is off, but this is my AU and it doesn't follow a timeline. And another thing, I wasn't going to put the video on this, but I kept playing the scene over and over in my head... I hope it wasn't too corny? **


	3. Looking Through the Rust

**Chapter Three: Looking Through the Rust**

"_Slade, you better come over to Jump City…. You've__ got to__ see this." _

Deathstroke's finger rewound the tape and his eye watched the scene again. This shouldn't be accurate; his apprentice falling from a high distance and finally getting stepped on. How could the boy be so careless? So sloppy? Alas, the more he studied the surveillance, the more his temper rose at the Teen Titans, rather than Richard. The witch carelessly threw a lamp post at their leader after he specifically told them to hold their fire.

He clenched his hands together, the only sign that he was angry. His mask was securely on and the young man who worked for him was twitching nervously beside him. Wintergreen, gasped the fifth time at seeing the stone giant step on Robin, which was getting very aggravating. "Poor boy, died just as his parents did." Wintergreen crooned and something snapped in him as he turned and grabbed the young man around the throat. The officer's normally pale face turned red from the lack of oxygen.

"Where did they take him?" It was a whisper, but he was sure the boy heard him perfectly well.

"I- I do- don't know boss." Deathstroke watched as a vein in the boy's forehead pulsed with the pressure around his neck. It would be so easy to just squeeze this worthless life in his hands.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Wintergreen shook him softly, yet firmly. "Slade, get a hold of yourself." His single eye surveyed the officer, the young man whose life was held in Deathstroke's hand, and opened up his fist, letting the body drop to the floor with a heave of air.

He took a deep breath and looked at the camera, watching as his apprentice looked disbelievingly over at the alien across the street with blood pouring down his face.

"Just let _him_ go, Slade. He was a great fighter, but it was his time to go. Move on." Deathstroke turned and stared coldly at Wintergreen.

"I know my apprentice, Wintergreen. He is still alive." He watched as William's eyes widened and looked at the camera in disbelief.

"Slade, no one can survive this. Maybe you, but… he was so small. The compact from the fall no doubt shook him, but when he was crushed-,"

"I want you to check all the hospitals in Gotham and Jump City, Wintergreen, and report back to me." With that sharp order, the mercenary turned his back and disappeared in the shadows.

**--PA--**

"_He's paralyzed?" The voice was full of disbelief. The nurse nodded, still checking the numbers on the clipboard from the patient lying in the bed before her. _

_Wintergreen looked at the form lying in a coma in the bed. He looked so small, how was he any importance to Slade?_

**--PA--**

Wintergreen walked in the dark atmosphere of the underground factory and spotted Deathstroke hunching over multiple chemicals, no doubt doing experiments. He seemed utterly calm, with his hands moving in sure motions despite the fact that his apprentice was in critical condition.

"Did you locate him?" His voice was void and his back stayed turned to Wintergreen while the old man stared holes in the back of his old time friend.

"Yes. But I'm afraid that he wasn't in a hospital like you had originally thought." Wintergreen watched as Deathstroke continued to work, not even a pause in his movements.

"Oh? And where is _my_ apprentice, William?" It was daunting that the man still had his back turned to William, like he knew what the man was going to say ahead of time.

"His body was committed to the morgue, Slade. He's dead." Deathstroke's back and head straightened up, but he continued to face away from Wintergreen.

"Is that right?" The tone was quiet and chilling. Wintergreen watched as Deathstroke turned slowly to face him. The only thing William could see were the shadows clinging to the large man's frame. His eye eerily stood out from the darkness, glittering with a strange emotion.

"Yes. Batman ordered the burial as Richard Grayson. A Tim Drake is playing Robin's role now in Jump City." Silence was thick in the factory, besides the ghostly sounds the gears made behind him.

"That is odd," Slade started, cocking his head slightly to the side. "George Sampson, a doctor and one of my workers, has an employment at the Wayne Memorial Clinic. He contacted me and told me a fascinating account. Do you know what he said, Wintergreen?" William swallowed his fear and lifted his chin, ready to defend himself to the mercenary.

"Let me take a gather. A patient by the name of Grayson, Richard was admitted yesterday afternoon. He's lying in a hospital bed, knocked unconscious from a coma; may I add that they have no idea when he is to wake up? Two broken ribs and both his legs broken." He paused. "And what was the other symptom?" He frowned at Slade. The man continued to watch him with an eerily calm.

"What was it, Slade? Ah yes, now I remember! He is paralyzed from the waist down. He is a crippled who will _never_ be able to walk again. His spinal cord was shattered to pieces, no hope in fixing it." Wintergreen was hoping to get a reaction out of Deathstroke but the man was just…_standing _there with his hands behind his back. "So, are you going to have an apprentice that wheels around in a wheelchair and shoots bullets at the enemies coming at him? Or maybe you can make a wheelchair that can do flips and goes one hundred miles per hour?" His accent was thick when he was spitting angry.

"That's quite enough, Wintergreen. I've known many people in wheelchairs who do amazing things." Slade's voice sent chills down William's arms.

"I'm not trying to criticize people in wheelchairs, Slade. I agree with you. Yes there are people who succeed brilliantly in life when they're in wheelchairs, but you're looking for an apprentice, someone who is strong and _stands_ by your side. You can't have a crippled apprentice." Silence filled the air again and the two men stood stiff, sizing each other up.

"Your absolutely right, Wintergreen. I can't have a crippled apprentice." With that Deathstroke turned back to the work table and scratched something on a piece of paper.

William blinked and slumped his shoulders. "That's good, Slade. You and I can get out of this country and find you a perfect apprentice-,"

"I've already found my perfect apprentice, Wintergreen. Richard Grayson." Wintergreen spluttered and gnashed his teeth together.

"But you said-,"

"Yes. I will not have a crippled apprentice." Deathstroke paused and turned his head to survey William with his cold eye.

"I will have a healthy apprentice who is loyal to _just me_." Something on William's face must have showed his confusion for Deathstroke chuckled softly…yet dangerously.

"William, my friend. Have you ever seen me fail in an experiment? I _will_ find a cure for paralysis, and when I do, Richard will only see me as the one who stood by him in his time for need. I will be the one who believed in him when he was at his lowest." With that, Deathstroke turned back to his work and left Wintergreen staring disbelievingly at his back.

He might as well get unpacking…

"Oh, and William?" Wintergreen turned back around, with an antagonistic taste in his throat. "If you lie to me again, the consequences will be severe. Considering you have a hard time seeing you _can_ be successful in a wheelchair, perhaps you will do well in experiencing that first hand." Wintergreen paled and gave a sharp nod, walking out the factory.

**--PA--**

"Poor boy." A plump nurse was brushing back Richard Grayson's sweaty black hair while she check his vital signs. Nicole was assigned to watch over Richard and was giving strict orders not to give him antibiotics or speak of the boy's condition to the public. It was heartbreaking to watch a boy, as young as Richard, die in the hospital. She knew first hand not to get too close to the patients, for it would only break her. And she couldn't be broken, because she loved working at the hospital.

He had woken up from his coma about a week ago. Regrettably, he had been asleep or too drugged on sedatives to speak to anyone. A patient like this would be severely traumatized in life. He would need a counselor to talk to if he would've been taking the antibiotics. But alas, Richard wasn't going to receive those antibiotics, meaning, he was going to die slowly from infection or illness while being drugged.

A throat cleared in the doorway, making Nicole remove her hand away from the patient.

"Excuse me, Nurse. I am Doctor Wilson. I'll be taking care of Richard for now on." She turned her brown eyes over to the speaker and became speechless, her mouth becoming dry.

He was damned sexy. White shaggy hair seemed to be ruffled perfectly and a goatee accented it. Blue eyes looked back at her from a face sculptured perfectly of sharp lines and curves. He was a very tall man with a broad upper body. She gave a small smile that he didn't return. In fact, the more she looked at him the more she saw how… rough he seemed. His eyes turned from her to Richard and she noticed that his right eye seemed unnaturally white.

She cleared her throat and stood in his line of vision to the boy.

"Of course Dr. Wilson, could I see some identity, please?" His eyes locked with hers and she gave all her strength to her knees to keep herself standing upright.

"If you deem it necessary, Nicole." His voice sent a blush to her cheeks and she couldn't help the smile that grew on her face.

As she studied the ID, the man stepped around her and went to the clipboard at the edge of the bed, studying it. "It says here that you are not giving him antibiotics. Why is that?" His voice had a hard edge to it and Nicole ran a hand through her hair in hopes to tame it. Oh, she must look awful…

Her eyes sought his waiting expression and blinked. What was the question? Ah, yes. He wanted to know of the absence of antibiotics. Perhaps he was new to the hospital scene.

"His guardian decided it wasn't necessary to sign for them. Most hospitals are required to give the patient antibiotics to prevent hospital illnesses or infections to occur. But with an injury such as severe as his, well, it really is up to the guardian if they want…" She trailed off at the expression of disgust the man was giving her.

"To let the child die." He finished her sentence rather accurately and turned toward Richard, studying the boy… almost obsessively it seemed. She watched as he walked over to him and stroked the face of the boy.

Nothing made a sound, beside the gentle beep of the heart monitor. Dr. Wilson trailed a finger down the trail of stitches over Richard's right eye.

"Has he eaten anything since he's waken up from his coma?" Nicole winced and looked over at Richard. It _did_ look like they were starving him. He wasn't supposed to die of starvation, only infection.

"Not through the mouth, no. But we've hooked an IV into him, giving him nutria-,"

"I am well aware of what an IV does, Nurse Nicole. But it looks to me like you have been treating him very poorly. You do realize that he might not acquire an illness or infection if you take care of him properly." He paused and Nicole opened her mouth to try to defend herself, but he continued.

"Has anyone been in, or talked to him on what happened? I'm sure it isn't a good idea to keep him quiet when something this traumatizing has happened." This doctor was odd. For all her years of being a nurse, there was never a doctor who actually took time out of his busy schedule to ask about the well being of a patient… who was actually going to try to prevent an infection.

"No." She didn't understand why she was so inclined to speak the truth to this man. But from his stance, it seemed as if he required instant respect. Nicole wasn't going to try otherwise. "To tell you the truth we have been giving him sedatives every time he wakes up. He wakes up screaming… from nightmares and doesn't calm down. He's actually very strong for such a small kid." She smiled but it dropped instantly when Dr. Wilson turned to face her with an unreadable face expression.

"So in short, you're slowly killing the boy? Is that even legal?" Studying her face he gave a chilling smile. "I guess it is, as long as you have a signature." At his tone she stepped back and cleared her throat.

"The sedatives are on the counter by the sink. When he wakes up from his sleep, you're required to give him a shot. I'm sure you know the rest. Good day, Dr. Wilson." With that, see fled the room as fast as she could, hoping she didn't just make herself look like a fool.

**--PA--**

Deathstroke sneered in disgust as the women fled. They never cared about their patients. Some doctors blamed it on the lack of space in the hospital; some just didn't have the energy to nurse someone back to full health…just as long as they received their pay check.

Disgusting.

He turned back to his apprentice and frowned. Richard was in bad shape and Slade would try his best to clean him up. No, he _would _clean Richard up.

He shouldn't have been surprised that the Bat never signed for antibiotics. After all, the Dark Knight had his own life he needed to take care of. It would be_ far_ too much work for him to take care of Richard like this, with all his fancy parties to attend and all that money…or was it simply because the man was too weak to see Richard like this? Broken beyond repair?

Surveying his apprentice, he noticed that the cut on the boy's face healed up enough to remove the stitches. Ironic that it was over his right eye, no?

For over an hour, Deathstroke worked over his apprentice, cleaning him up as best he could without his tools that resided in his hideout.

He would _kidnap_ Richard as soon as the boy was able to stay awake for more than three hours. Until then, Slade would attempt to fill in the cracks that were his apprentice's spirit.


	4. It's Never Too Late

**Chapter Four: It's Never Too Late **

_Bright blue eyes watched as his parent's faces turned into terror while their bodies flipped in awkward positions. They couldn't stop falling, they couldn't grab onto anything. They just steadily made their way closer to the hard ground… the ground that held no safe landing. A part of Richard wanted to join them in their fall, but his feet stayed rooted to the raised platform. Twin snaps sounded throughout the tent as their bodies hit the floor, necks and legs bent in the opposite direction they should've been._

_With no time to spare, he leaped off the platform and joined his parents to the afterlife… _

His whole body jerked severely as he awoke from the same nightmare he had been having for awhile. The panic drove at him once again when he realized he had no idea where he was. All he remembered was waking up a couple of times; only to have a needle pierce his skin, making him sleep… and have more nightmares.

His arms thrashed at his invisible enemy, trying to ward off the sharp needle that was bound to come his way again. A loud beeping was heard throughout the room, piercing his ears. It almost matched the rhythm of his rapidly beating heart.

"Relax, Richard. You're safe." A large, rough, hand was pressed to his forehead and Richard heard the familiar tone, but couldn't match it with a face. Bringing up his hand, he tried to bat the heavy weight off his forehead, but it was forced down a second later by the mysterious character.

The calloused fingers brushed away a few strands of his hair and it felt oddly comforting. "Open your eyes, Richard. See where you are." It seemed oddly taxing to gather the strength to open his eyes. Perhaps it was because he hadn't had them open in what seemed like ages.

Or maybe it was because he didn't want to face reality.

Slowly, but surely, his eyelids cracked open into slits. Sleep caked his eyelids as he opened them wider, but alas, he shut them involuntarily when a bright light hit the pupils. Lying there, he focused on his breathing while his finger's wandered up to his face to trace over the thick scar running across his right eyelid.

His tongue ran over the chapped skin of his lips and he exhaled loudly, but calmly. Nothing would get done with him panicking like this. "Wh-," His voice cracked and he swallowed a couple times, trying to wash down the undetectable block. "Where?" That was all he could get out at the moment and he sat there, waiting for the cool, silky voice to tell him the answer.

"I'll tell you everything, if you open your eyes, Richard." The man wasn't playing fair, but his mind was a haze and answers sounded good right now.

Blue eyes blinked up at the ceiling, trying to get used to the brightness that was the white room. It was too bright for his liking… his eyes danced over to the source of the speaker. It was a handsome man, with an indescribable age. He didn't _look_ familiar, but something was off about him, something that would occur to Richard when he woke up from this… daze.

"You're at the Wayne Memorial Clinic. Do you remember what happened?" Tired blue eyes moved away from the man that wouldn't give him the _answers_ and it irritated him. Didn't the man say he would tell Richard once he opened his eyes? Now he wanted him to _think_ in this foggy mind.

"_Starfire! Lift me up. Raven, hold your fire!" The red haired alien flew over to her leader and hooked her hands around his arms. They flew through the air and she dropped him on the giant's shoulder while he retracted his Bo staff. If he could strike it in the neck he could weaken the giant considerably, which would make it more tolerant to the attacks. He brought down his staff, but before he could connect it at the monster's neck, Raven took that moment to toss a streetlamp at the giant. It hit the stone monster, but it also clipped Robin across the head- sending his vision black for a moment's time._

A loud, terrified gasp filled the room as he remembered the events from… how long ago? It seemed like years ago. It all seemed like a dream to him. Perhaps… just maybe, he was still dreaming? And then _it_ hit him. It was just so second nature that he didn't think anything about it when he woke up. The last time he had his memory about him… he _had_ legs, but he couldn't move them now.

The heart monitor next to him started beeping off rhythm again and he reflexively moved his trembling hands down to pat the bed sheets. Were they brutally ripped from their sockets? Maybe he had laid on them for weeks and they were just numb. His hands roamed the length of his present leg. They were there.

He then tried to clench his toes and lift his leg and bend his knee, anything, but he was unsuccessful. This… this couldn't happen to him. Not-, no.

This was a nightmare… he had to wake up. The doctors must've gotten him with another needle when he had woken up.

"Breath, Richard." The man stood up from the chair and came over to him, reaching out to bring him back to reality.

Darkness claimed him before the man did, and he blacked out.

**--PA--**

Raven sat in the darkest corner of the common room, trying to mediate. But her eyes were cracked open, roaming over to her teammates whom were doing different things around the room.

Cyborg and Beast Boy were playing video games, although they seemed a little less enthusiastic than they usually were. Starfire was sitting on the couch, looking out into space… and the newest member of the team was making himself a sandwich.

Everyone in the tower seemed depressed and there was a good reason for it to. Their leader had a terrible accident that they all felt responsible for. She remembered watching as her bewitched lamp post flew toward Robin, making him loose his balance and fall.

The rest of the team was flying around the city, trying to rescue the people from being stepped on. It was too late when she just _watched_ as their leader's body slammed into the street. Not only was she responsible for his fall, but also when she just stood there and stared at him as he tried to roll away as fast as he could from the coming down stone foot. Not only her, but Starfire, and Beast Boy, also just _watched_. Cyborg made an attempt to run as fast as he could toward Robin, but failed. It was him who instructed everyone what to do in the situation. He was the one who told Raven to float Robin over to the Titan's tower with her black magic. Even then, she sensed something was severely wrong with Robin. She tried to heal him as best as she could.

This accident came to a shock to her. They had felt that Robin was, well, immortal; someone who never would get into this kind of accident. The whole team saw Robin as their leader, someone who would never perish, but really, he was _just_ a human. And that was their own mistake.

She had heard no news once so ever about Robin from Batman. She could only meditate to keep her mind off the whole subject, making sure her emotions didn't get the best of her.

The 'new' Robin was keeping himself busy with training in the workout room… something him and Robin probably picked up from Batman. The new Robin wasn't as good as Robin in fighting. Sure he had good moves, but Robin had always had great strategies and better skill in the martial arts. She didn't understand completely why they needed the new Robin, although she guessed it was to keep Batman's and Robin's identity covered.

She just hoped Robin would be coming back home soon.

**--PA--**

Deathstroke watched as his apprentice _fainted_. Of course finding out he was paralyzed was life changing and he was also weak from all the sedatives, but when Richard woke up, he would come to terms with his condition. Deathstroke would see to that.

What he really was worried about was Richard's fever and the rising infection in his body. The sooner he took his apprentice away, the faster he could work without being undercover. He would be able to give the antibiotics to him freely. The antibiotics were easy to smuggle to Richard, but the hospital took detailed records on which drugs left the center and where they arrived.

Slade leaned against the bed frame and looked down at the boy. Now that his apprentice was sleeping, he was able to think clearly and more in detail of what he was going to do with Richard.

Now that he had gotten his hands on Richard, he could start working with the boy. Batman had given him the greatest example of the meaning 'manipulation.' The man cared too greatly for his crime fighting and would give up his ward just to keep his image and continue as if nothing had happened. Even after all the two had gone through, Batman had thrown Richard away.

Batman saw Richard as a broken superhero, but Deathstroke saw him as broken toy… something that would shine with brilliance once he took apart the foundation and put if preciously back together. A toy in which would be envied among others, but it would be completely in his possession by then and it would be impossible for others to take his creation away from him. And when he fixed his toy, he would train it to become loyal…someone who would stand by his side. It would take a great amount of time to reach that position, along with a lot of trust, training, and respect. But time was what he had.

"Excuse me; I'm here to visit Richard Grayson." Deathstroke sneered softly, his back facing the visitor in the door way. His mind started turning with the possibilities in which the Batman was here. Was it guilt, perhaps?

No matter...

Clearing his face away of any emotion, he turned and nodded toward Bruce Wayne. The man carried a bouquet of lilacs and Deathstroke wondered lazily if they were Richard's favorite flower. How… sweet.

"He's resting right now." He paused for a moment and surveyed the Dark Knight with a critical eye_. "Sir."_ Respect, was it really needed? Perhaps, but Slade didn't seem to be inclined to give the man the satisfactory of leaving the room.

Bruce nodded and made his way over to his apprentice while Deathstroke picked up the clipboard to scribble a few notes on it, well aware of the man's eyes on him.

"Sorry, what was your name again?" Batman's voice sounded through the room and Deathstroke watched in the corner of his good eye as Richard stirred on the bed. Hiding a smirk, Slade turned back around and positioned his body between Bruce and his apprentice. Oh, it would be fun to play with his toy and the Bat.

"Ah, my apologies. My name is Dr. Wilson and I'm caring for Richard now." He could just feel those pretty blue eyes staring holes on his back and he hid a smile while looking down at the clipboard. "And you must be Bruce Wayne, am I correct?" Of course he was correct, he was always correct. Bruce gave a hesitant nod, his eyes wary as if he could sense something was about to transpire shortly.

"You are correct. The front desk gave me permission to visit Richard. Now, if you'll excuse me, Dr. Wilson, I would like to visit him _alone_." Deathstroke nodded, flipping through the pages of the documents.

"Yes of course. Jest let me get this paper work straightened out first." At seeing the man's face contort, Deathstroke interrupted smoothly. "It will only take a couple of minutes. Just some yes and no questions and afterward you can see Richard alone. " Without waiting for an answer, Deathstroke started reading off the questions that were not on the clipboard.

"It says here that you're _not_ giving permission to the hospital to give Richard antibiotics, is that correct?" Bruce opened his mouth, as if to defend himself, but Deathstroke continued without a pause.

"And it says here that you were notified that without the antibiotics given to the patient, he will likely acquire an infection or hospital illness that results in death?" He couldn't help the small smirk as he watched Batman's jaw clench and his hands grip the flowers in a death hold.

So Slade was accurate in assuming the man was guilty of not signing the papers. Under his lashes, Slade studied the man. What made the Batman not sign them? Was it that Richard and Wayne had more of an emotional bond then Slade had first originally thought? Maybe Batman had been an emotional wreck the night he was informed of Richard's incapability and wasn't in the right mind to sign. But it still didn't change Slade's game. He was going to use Wayne's hesitation of signing the papers as his trap to lure Richard. And his trap started now.

_Three_

Deathstroke scribbled something on his paper and turned toward Richard.

_Two_

His blue eye locked with tired blue and he cocked his head to the side, as if he were surprised to see Richard awake. The boy's lips were frowning. Oh, how pretty he looked when in pain.

_One_

He moved out the way to let the guardian and ward lock eyes.

"Why, Bruce?" His toy's voice spread thickly through the room.

_Check and Mate_. He moved gracefully over to the sink and leaned against it, watching in amusement as Batman looked over at him as if he planned the whole thing…

"Why?" Richard spoke more forceful, as much as he could with his hoarse voice. The boy's blue eyes looked upon the Bat with betrayal. Emotional ties that snapped were rather fascinating to watch. How would the Batman get out of this one?

Bruce sighed and ran his hand through his slicked back hair. "I was coming here to visit you and sign the form. Alfred made me see what my mistake was, and I was devastated that I actually considered-,"

Deathstroke watched as his apprentice's normally attractive face screw up in anger. "Don't lie, Bruce. I know that you're a man who makes good decisions on the spur of the moment. If you really wanted me around, you would've signed the whole form without Alfred's word of advice. You always do things your way without the help of others." Richard was trying to sit up, while never loosing eye contact with Bruce.

Batman nodded and set the lilacs on the table beside Richard. He glanced over at Deathstroke whom had crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't going anywhere. Not when his plans were already working out perfectly.

"You're right, Richard. I do make decisions in moments like that. But I_ thought_ I was doing the right thing. I thought when you discovered you could never walk again, that you would just give up on life. Ever since you were a small kid, you've always used your legs to do what you loved in life."

Richard fell back on his pillows and glared at Bruce with unbelievable eyes. "You thought I would've lost the will to life just because I'm…" Robin faltered and Slade frowned. The boy would have to come to terms with what he was. "Paralyzed?"

Deathstroke watched as his apprentice sagged against the pillows in weariness and his fever showed 103 degrees. This was like his own personal puppet show… how quaint.

"Richard-," Wayne tried so desperately, it was sickening to watch.

"You were going to kill me." There was that betrayal Slade was so found of.

Batman stepped closer and he watched as his apprentice straightened up again, clenching his hands together. "Richard, I was going to sign it-,"

"After you found out I was conscious and wasn't dying from an infection." Richard's eyes flashed, his fever rising another degree. "Just leave." This discussion wasn't over, Slade knew that. Robin wasn't convinced of everything presently; it was up to Slade to whisper things in the boys ear, to convince him that Wayne thought him broken and useless. But was this emotional bond too strong for Slade to pluck it apart?

Just as Bruce was going to open his mouth again, Deathstroke stepped in between them and gave the Batman a sneer. "Richard's health is unstable and he is in no position to be arguing. If you would please take your leave and let him rest…" Batman looked at the monitor besides Richard's bed and gave a sharp nod. Without another word, the Batman turned his heel and left the room.

Once the door slammed, Deathstroke watched carefully as Richard looked blankly at the closed door, with a face of disbelief.

Everything was working out just the way he liked it.


	5. In This World Around Me

**A/n:** There is a lot of page breaks in this chapter and it's really long, simply because I combined all of my old chapters into one… so the last bit of chapter six will be all new material. And as some of the old readers might tell, some things are different in this chapter…

Oh, and thanks for those of you who reviewed. ;-)

**Chapter Five: In This World Around Me**

Richard slowly turned his head away from the doctor to hide his moment of weakness. The thick betrayal was spread across his face with a noticeable print. His mentor, the man he looked up to for so long, had thrown him away in a matter of minutes after he had heard of Richard's… disability. After _everything_ they had gone through together. When Bruce took him in after his parents' death, the man had unconsciously stepped in the role of Richard's mentor. In his eyes, Bruce was his new found father… someone who shared his same passions and dark past.

Where would he go from here? Would he go back to the Teen Titans in desperation? Would he be forced back to Bruce even after the act of rejection the man showed? Would he even survive that long?

It didn't matter that Bruce came here to sign the papers, after days of thought and guilt. What mattered was he didn't sign them the moment the papers landed in his hands. What mattered was that he would easily throw away years of bonding and teachings when an accident such as this happened.

What mattered was he dismissed the Robin to his Batman without so much as regret.

A hand brushed through his sweaty locks and he turned his blue eyes toward the doctor. The man had an unreadable expression on his face, no words of comfort came forth, but the hand was enough to show Richard that the doctor tried to offer comfort. Despite the fact that he probably didn't know what the hell went on just now.

Or maybe he did? The man's eyes were full of wise knowledge that Richard had ever seen in someone before. And there was that spark of recognition in Richard when he studied the doctor. The man didn't look familiar, he had pale skin, blue eyes, and a roughly trimmed goatee that looked like it was cut by the man himself with a knife or pair of uneven scissors.

His build looked familiar though; very tall, muscular, and a broad upper body. That only narrowed it down to about a dozen of grown heroes or villains he knew.

Before Richard could ask anything, the man turned and left the room without a word. Richard blinked in confusion and rested his eyes for a moment. He didn't feel as tired as he expected he would after the confrontation with Bruce, but the weariness was still there.

And the raw feeling of betrayal.

The door opened again and Richard snapped his eyes open, watching as the doctor came in with a wheelchair behind him. A small frown settled on his face as he looked at the hospital wheelchair. He hadn't come to terms with his disability yet, and the sight of him so vulnerable made him uncomfortable. Especially in front of the doctor. If Bruce was so intent on losing Richard just because of his paralysis, what was he to think?

He was tempted to ask the man if he could leave for a few moments, but what good would that do? Richard wouldn't be able to do anything himself. He had never been in this situation before, and he never thought it would happen to him.

Just a few weeks ago he was sprinting, climbing, walking, doing flips, and_ now_ he was sitting for the rest of his life.

He found the doctor studying him closely with that damn unreadable expression and finally the man stepped closer to Richard.

"We are taking a _stroll._ Get you used to the wheelchair, and getting you fresh air. The stench in this hospital is getting to me." Richard blinked at the voice, hating himself of drawing a blank of where he had heard it before.

Before he was moved, Richard sat up and glanced suspiciously at the doctor. "What was your name, again?"

"Doctor Wilson." At that he bent down and gathered Richard up in his arms. He was taken fluidly off the bed as if he didn't weigh a thing. The tips of Richard's ears turned red in embarrassment for having to be taken care of like this. He had never been this weak and he hated it. Ever since he was a child he had taken care of himself and he vowed that he would help others, not the other way around.

He was set down in the chair and he looked away from Wilson in self-disgust.

"Well, are you coming?" Richard looked up and saw that Wilson was already at the door, holding it open for him. It would seem that the man wasn't going to push him as he thought the doctor would.

With shaking hands, Richard put them on the wheel and pushed forward. The wheelchair only went about two inches and Richard clenched his teeth together. His arms were weak as a newborn…

_This is so awkward._

**--PA--**

Deathstroke watched as Richard failed to push the chair forward. It was obvious that Richard was feeling weak and uncomfortable with his situation.

No matter, with a little push from Slade, the boy will be used to being in a wheelchair and being paralyzed. Once the sedatives and drugs cleared from Richard's system completely, Slade was sure the boy would figure out that Dr. Wilson _was_ Slade, his 'ultimate enemy'. But Deathstroke was confidant enough that everything would work out smoothly… Richard would have no where to turn _but_ to him.

In time Richard would come to see that Slade was the only one who held on to him when everyone else threw him away like a wasted hero. Robin would come to love the thrill with working beside Deathstroke and the mercenary would fuel that thrill into commitment and dependability.

"Push harder, Richard." The boy looked up at him in a moment of doubt, but followed his advice. With a harder force, the chair steadily came beside him and went out in the hallway.

He witnessed his apprentice's arms shake in resistance from the lack of movement the past few weeks. He knew when Richard got better it would take awhile for him to get back in shape and even longer to get him up to speed.

**--PA--**

The hallway was empty except the usual nurse or doctor and sometime a patient enjoying a walk down the hall with a member of the nursing staff holding there hand. The boy was well aware of the doctor walking directly behind him, those eerie blue eyes watching him closely. But Richard wasn't paying any attention to that, instead, heavy thoughts were pulling at his mind and his arms were shaking like mad from exhaustion.

He knew the doctor noticed this trembling, but he did nothing to help. Which were both a relief and a confusion matter to Richard. When he watched movies or read books when a character got paralyzed, he had always seen people help that character out as much as possible. Especially the doctor. In fact, even some patients and doctors gave him a pitying look as they swept by. But Wilson just walked behind him, in the same slow pace Richard was going. And for that, Richard had to give some respect toward the man.

Well, it was respect in Richard's world, maybe not for others.

As he passed the main lobby, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a tall mirror. Just from that quick glance, his stomach churned unpleasantly and he hurried past it. But no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going anywhere. Looking up, he realized Wilson held the chair in place.

"Wha-,"

"I want you to look at yourself, Richard. You seem to think that you're weak and crippled, but tell me what you see that is different about yourself." Lips frowning, his eyes looked at his reflection. He was thinner, that was the first thing that struck him and he-, "Tel l_me_, Richard." Breath tickled his ear and Richard tensed his shoulders slightly.

"I-," His voice cracked from disuse. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm thinner." He didn't want to do this. People were looking in his direction but he met there glance head on in the mirror.

"Yes. Go on." He rose his blue eyes in the mirror to meet Wilson's own stoic gaze. Looking away, he continued.

"I'm… paler, my hair is longer and less…" He paused, loss for a word what his hair appeared to be like. It was shaggier and darker with the grease. "I have a scar on my face over my right eye." And that was it. He couldn't see anything else, but Wilson seemed to be patiently waiting. "That's all I see." Richard replied and Wilson nodded, putting his hand on the bony shoulder.

"And in your _reflection_, what makes you different from everyone else?" Richard's mind came up with the wheelchair, but looking into the mirror, he couldn't see it. It wasn't in his reflection.

"I don't see anything different." He expected the man to deny him that he was wrong, but Wilson's face was incomprehensible.

"That's right. Nothing in your reflection makes you different than anyone else. You or someone else may call you a _cripple_, but what, besides your wheelchair, makes you different?" He waited for Richard to comment and the boy nodded.

"You're saying that people who aren't in wheelchairs aren't any better than me. We are all the same." Wilson cocked his head to the side and gave a grim smile and nod.

"You may appear the same on the outside, Richard, but you are not all equal." Richard looked complex and frowned at Wilson, wasn't the man just saying that he wasn't different from anyone else?

"I don't understand." A nurse came to a stop beside Wilson. In her hands she held an envelope that had a cursive font on the front, probably addressed to Dr. Wilson. But before she could open her mouth, Wilson shooed her off with a wave of his hand- his eyes never leaving Richard's. The woman's lips pursed but she turned her heel.

"Your reflection is no different from anyone else's, Richard, but _you_, yourself, are different from everyone else. While people look down at you and put you down, you stay strong. You have gone through something terrible and continued on living, while others would have given up in life. They would've thrown self-pity acts or accepted Bruce's explanation. But _you_ have a strong will, _which_ makes you uniquely stronger than everyone else."

Richard swiveled his head around and met Wilson face to face. "You're saying that I'm stronger than most people are, Doctor Wilson, but what if I told you that I was weak? What if I said that I haven't accepted the fact that I will _never_ run or walk again? What if I told you that I look down upon myself for being in this position?"

The man's face was unreadable once again, but Richard felt a flame of smugness that he got the last word in. That _his_ opinion was the right one, not Doctor Wilson's way. He _was_ weak for being in this position, and nothing Wilson said would change that.

_Right?_

"Than I would say that you need more time. It has only been a couple of hours since you have learned about your condition. Naturally anyone would be in shock at the situation, but already you have shown that you are stronger than most." A malicious grin showed upon Wilson's face and Richard leaned forward even more so their eyes locked heatedly.

"Then, what if I said that it was me being feeble that got me in this position? I could've avoided being paralyzed; the situation I was in could've been shunned if I hadn't been _weak._" Knowing he had the last word, he turned his head back to the mirror, but a rough hand caught his chin and forced his gaze back to Wilson's.

"Why do you insist to put yourself down? You were not weak. It was not your fault that you had been knocked down, nor was it your fault that you cannot fly." Wilson's voice was harsh as if he held a grudge against his team, but he couldn't know what had happened, could he?

"Who are you?" Richard whispered heatedly. His eyebrows frowned as Wilson straightened with a smug look upon his face.

"You are the detective, _Robin_, figure it out." Richard sucked in a breath and clutched his hands on the armrest.

"Doctor Wilson-," Richard watched as the same nurse as before stepped up to Wilson and muttered a few words with the man. Becoming rather overwhelmed, Richard wheeled away toward an open balcony. His eyes drank in the picture of Gotham City. It was not really fresh air, but better than the stuffy room in the hospital and the lights from the skyscrapers blinked dazedly at him.

The wind played with his hair in a similar fashion in which Wilson ran his hand through it earlier. He had no idea where he had known Wilson before….

Richard sighed, his eyelids squeezing shut as he tried to think past the thick haze in his mind.

**--PA--**

"Doctor Wilson, I was trying to get your attention before." A stern nurse came up to him just as he landed blowing mark on Richard. His eyes went from Richard to the nurse. Her frown wrinkles around her mouth were rather pronounced and they deepened as she handed him a letter.

"And I was talking to my patient. You wouldn't have wanted to interrupt me." He replied coldly, looking down at the letter she was holding out. He didn't take it and instead moved his gaze back to the woman's eyes. "You wanted to say something?" She pursed her lips again and kept her arm outstretched, shaking it slightly.

"Mr. Wayne wrote the hospital and signed for Richard's immediate release." Slade frowned slightly and urged her to go on with an impatient hand. Her eyes flashed, but she continued. "Richard will be leaving tomorrow with Mr. Wayne. He has legal rights to take Richard and admit the antibiotics himself."

It was an unexpected move from the Bat but it wasn't unwanted. In fact, this might work to his own advantage. His eyebrow rose as he slowly started walking away from the woman and her outstretched hand. "Excuse me, Dr. Wilson-," She was waving that pathetic letter in her hand.

"You are excused Madame." His tone of voice left her frozen in her spot, the letter dropping to her side.

His eyes were intentionally locked on Richard and he leaned against the French door. The boy was trying to collect his thoughts in the cool night air of Gotham, unsuccessfully.

_Soon, Richard._

**--PA--**

The lights were dimming in the hallways and nurses came around to check on the patients before letting them sleep. Richard was given his antibiotics with a cup of water. Not exactly the late night snack he was looking for, but he couldn't complain. He just wanted to be alone for awhile.

Sitting in the dark lit room, his thoughts were centered completely on Dr. Wilson. Never once did the man smile or seem to be warm hearted. No, he seemed the opposite of that. He reminded Richard of Bruce.

Just thinking of the Dark Knight made his head spin faster. His trembling fingers shot up to his head and grasped his temples in a death grip. First things first. He had to clear his mind and think of whom Wilson was. Somewhere in his mind, he knew who the man was. He just needed to confront it.

Who else could speak to Richard and make him doubt himself? Who could speak with such intelligence? Who could make him feel this vulnerable and make his blood rise?

But it didn't make sense.

Why would Slade show his face? His true face at that? It had been… a year since Richard had last obsessed over the man… a year since he was infatuated on what was under that mask of his. And now he was here. In this very hospital, undercover as a doctor, whispering things in his ear. What could it mean?

And then he felt that strong feeling of burning curiosity that always seemed to go hand in hand with Slade. His eyes flashed and his hands clenched. An ugly sneer distorted his appearance as he looked over at the wheelchair sitting so harmlessly beside his bed. He was paralyzed. He couldn't run. He couldn't walk… he couldn't even crawl properly. So the question that _burned_him was what did Slade want?

The man couldn't want to kill him. If he had, Richard would be dead already.

The man couldn't want him as an apprentice; Richard would be useless to him.

Just like Bruce thought.

No matter, whatever the reason Slade wanted him for; Robin wouldn't stick around and wait. No, he would figure out what the man wanted on his own terms- from a distance underneath paper work and solitude. Looking over at the wheel chair, he swallowed.

He sat up in bed and used his arms and hands to scoot his reluctant body over to the side of the bed. Next was the tricky part. With a sigh, his right hand slapped the nightstand and his other arm clutched the edge of the bed… with a grimace, he pushed the rest of his body over the bed. He held himself up by his arms, and slowly lowered himself in the chair.

He would've been extremely happy that he had managed that, but his whole body was shaking in fatigue just after that small feat.

**--PA--**

Wintergreen placed the teabag in the hot water cup and started to make his way to Slade's study. His old friend came back from the hospital hours ago and locked himself in his room. Usually Slade didn't need to sleep or eat but the mercenary generally did sleep around two hours every night to regenerate his body for more strength. But recently, Slade had been staying up all night, trying to find a cure for paralysis.

William didn't know if Slade would find the cure, after all, his 'apprentice' shattered his lower spinal cord. But alas, Slade was a genius when he put all his attention into an assignment.

He raised a fist and tapped at the door and awaited the familiar growl of approval, but silence answered his knock. Waiting patiently, he allowed a few minutes to go by when he let himself in. He expected to be met with an empty room, but was flabbergasted to be facing Slade who was studying something underneath a microscope on a large computer screen. His eyes went over to the side of the room and gave an exasperated sigh. There were two people gagged against the wall. One was watching William desperately, his mouth bound shut. The other man was knocked out, not moving. What they both had in common was the wheelchair they sat upon.

Turning his eyes back to Slade, he shook his head. The Slade he knew would never be caught off guard. With another sigh, Wintergreen positioned the tea tray on the counter and silently walked up behind the man. Tensing, he placed a hand on Slade's shoulder and was not surprised in the least as the man turned with quick reflexes and slammed him against the table… all before William's hand landed on his shoulder.

"For God's sake, Slade, I knocked on the door and you still didn't realize I was in the room." Slade's messy appearance met William's eyes and the old man frowned in disappointment. Once Slade let go of Wintergreen, did he say something. "You're slipping, Slade. Look at yourself, your untidy, unaware of your surroundings, and clueless on what's happening around you… especially to your apprentice." Deathstroke flashed William a severe look with his one eye, his false eye was absent his socket covered by an ebony eye patch.

"What are you blabbering on about, Wintergreen?" William ignored his comment and looked at Slade's workplace. Formulas were written neatly on pieces of paper, and test tubes were labeled precisely full of different colored liquid.

_At least he's organized here. _Save for the two humans…

"What I'm saying is that I could've been someone else. You have many enemies that want to… well, attempt to kill you. I came close enough to stab you." He watched as Deathstroke gave a humorless smile that held absolutely no comfort.

"_William_ I knew it was you. No need to lecture me on things I already know." William raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"So you're aware that your apprentice left the hospital and is now roaming the city?"

Deathstroke sighed and turned back to his formula, ignoring the old man across from him. But Slade paused in his motions and seemed to contemplating something. That blue eye turned back to him. "Of course I am, Wintergreen. I already have someone on it."

William gave a snort and crossed his arms over his chest. Right now the only people in Slade's warehouse were himself and Slade. Well, and robots, if he counted them as people and Slade's guinea pigs.

"Really? And who is that?"

"_You._"

Wintergreen opened his mouth trying to form the words to convince Slade that he wasn't good with children. "Why can't you do it? He is _yours _after all." Slade's lips twitched and he motioned toward his work table.

"I am busy. I need to gather a few ingredients to continue on my research and our friends need looking after." The man who was conscious moaned deeply in his throat but Slade ignored him. "Oh, and Wintergreen?" William turned to look at the bound man and back to Slade in expectancy. "Don't underestimate Richard."

Wintergreen sighed and turned his back on his old friend. He was getting too old to work for the assassin.

**--PA--**

Richard was chewing on his tongue in annoyance. Everywhere he went; people looked down upon him with pitying glances and offered him help.

_Did he look like he was mental?_

Of course he had to admit that he did look the part. It was raining out and his hair and hospital clothes stuck to his skin, while his bags under his eyes were pronounced. Not to mention he had no idea where he was going, and he didn't have any money.

That was when an idea hit him. He didn't want to do it, but it was raining quite heavily outside and he knew he had a rising fever.

Richard stopped pushing himself forward and paused in the middle of the slightly populated walkway. His muddy hands from pushing the wheels shakily went up to his face and he buried his head in them. With a sigh, he began shaking his shoulders in dry heaves. Really, he didn't really cry but he was able to make a convincing sob. He doubted anyone would actually stop, considering most people don't really care for others. No, they had their own agenda and never stopped to help others.

Surprisingly it only took a matter of minutes before someone crouched down in front of him and put a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a hard to guess it was an elderly woman, out of the age rankings, Richard suspected it probably would have been a member of the senior party. "Oh my dear, are you alright?" Lifting his face up slightly, he let the rain slide down his cheeks.

"I… I don't know." With a shake of his head, he placed his head back in his dirty hands, successfully staining his own pale skin with mud.

"What happened?" The lady held her umbrella over Richard's head to stop the pouring rain. At this, his chest squeezed.

He shouldn't be taking advantage of her like this… not this sweet woman. "I just came out of the hospital just a few hours ago. My mother was supposed to pick me up but she didn't come. So I left and started to make my way over to her house." He paused and sniffed, looking up and avoiding her wrinkly eyes.

"She- she wasn't there. Now I have to go back to the hospital, and it's raining, I have no money for the subway, and people are looking at me-."

The withered hand stroked his muddy cheek in a soothing caress. "Shhh, it's alright, dear. How about I give you some money for the subway? It's the least I could do."

It's what Richard was aiming for but now that he reached his goal, he was unsure. "Oh, no, I couldn't." He watched as the women stood up and dug through her purse, taking out a small wad of money and she placed it in Richard's hand. It was much more than a ride on the subway, but she gave Richard's hand a squeeze when she set it in his grasp.

"Nonsense, go back to the hospital where they can take care of you. It looks like your running a fever." Looking deeply in her brown gaze, he gave a nod, the rain washing away his mud.

"Thank you miss, I will never forget this." She gave him a warm smile and turned back in the direction she was headed earlier.

Richard sat in his chair and stared at the money in his loose fist watching as the rain stained the material.

**--PA--**

Wintergreen gritted his teeth as his body bumped against the back of the filthy chair on the subway. Typically he drove _cars_ or planes when he traveled. The subway was always so dirty and full of people who weren't worth his time. In this case though, one young boy was his center of attention. Unfortunately he wasn't on yet.

In all his years with working with Slade, he never felt so unworthy about doing something for his old friend. The man actually had the nerve to make him baby sit a lost cause. The boy would never be anything but a wheelchair rider. Alas, he would sit here and coax the boy to come back to Slade's base with him. It should be easy enough. Robin, his name was, would be so weak and broken that he would take the first opportunity to come with him.

His dull grey eyes went to the newspaper he gathered out from his leather briefcase and made himself as comfortable as he could on the filthy seat. His back never touched the seats. Before he could attempt to read the news, a pregnant woman who seemed to be almost due, stood beside him. She had no where to sit so she was holding onto the poll in front of him.

This wouldn't do.

Clearing his throat he looked up at the women. "Excuse me, miss?" The dirty blonde head turned to him and her large brown eyes smiled down at him. Perhaps she expected something from him? "Could you please move? I'm expecting someone at any moment and I won't be able to see them with you standing in the way." He watched as her wide smile immediately turned into a frown and those brown eyes glared at him.

What was she expecting? Offering her his spot? He thought not. He wasn't going to be holding onto a germ covered pole in the middle of the subway.

Many people around him looked at him in disbelief, but why would they? They weren't making an effort to give up their seat for her, why should he? Clearing his throat again, he grabbed the paper closer and studied it with uninterested eyes. He had already read this today, no big news that shot out at him.

The woman gave a whine and once the subway stopped she exited it with haste. Wintergreen's eyes shot up to the scrolling sign above the door. It was _his_ stop. Slade's paralyzed apprentice.

He suppressed a smirk at that.

Many people got on and off the subway within a matter of minutes, but still no wheelchair figure. Before Wintergreen jumped up to exit the subway in search of Slade's toy, he finally spotted a large man catching the doors for a slow newcomer. A wheelchair slowly came in the subway and the figure gave a small nod toward the man who had helped him in.

And that was the first time Wintergreen laid eyes on Slade's prized fighter in person. He looked much different in presence rather on a film or unconscious in a bed. Perhaps he had the wrong person? That is until he saw the hospital clothes on the boy. Disbelief and amusement swept through Wintergreen. The boy was…was _petite._ His form was thin and short, making him appear innocent and naïve. The black messy hair flew in large, shocking blue eyes.

After how many talented young men and women threw themselves at Slade's feet for a chance to become his apprentice, the mercenary denied every last one for _this._

Slade had said it was because of the challenge Robin presented to him. But how could someone this weak and useless be a challenge to Slade? The man was a legend when it came to understanding people, so how could he not realize that the boy in front of him was a _child_, someone who wanted to change his past to accommodate his future?

Wintergreen shook his head in disproval and disgust. Slade stooped low this time. Certainly the man had all the time in the world for being immortal, but he was still wasting it on the child.

Look at how foolish he is… From the time the boy got on the subway to now, William still hadn't moved his gaze away and _still_ the child hadn't even noticed. There was no excuse- the child was a waste of training and money.

Nonetheless, he would bring the runt back to Slade to make the man feel better his toy was there. How Batman had ever found potential there was laughable, but William guessed the child looked better when he was able to walk by himself.

But now… now that he was in a wheelchair, he was worth nothing.

The subway came to a stop and William stood up as Robin wheeled his way out. This part of town was full of commercials; hotels, restaurants, shops and etc. Surly the boy didn't think he was getting anywhere without Batman or Slade breathing down his neck.

He was well aware of many people glancing in Robin's direction with curiosity and pity. Wintergreen didn't blame them one bit. It was a sight to see a small boy wheeling around with absolutely no sense in direction.

Grey eyes followed every motion the Boy Wonder made. His arms and hands shook severely every time they lifted up to pull forward the wheels to his chair. The skin above the lithe muscle was shockingly pale and clammy looking. Slade had said something about needing antibiotics in his system and it looked like the boy needed them fast and soon.

He was surprised when Robin kept wheeling further down an alley where less people were around. What was the boy playing at? Did he know a shortcut perhaps? No matter, Wintergreen followed and stayed at a distance while the child stopped and hunched his shoulders in defeat. It looked as if he were crying or resting his sore arms.

Suppressing an _I told you so_ Wintergreen quietly made his way toward the oblivious boy. He made sure no one was around when he bent down to Robin's level- ready to gather the boy in his arms. What William didn't expect was what happened next.

The boy slammed his forehead against his own and not seconds later came a strong fist, crashing itself underneath his chin in a powerful right hook.

Before Wintergreen fell unconscious, the last thing he saw was bright, tired, blue eyes looking down at him in revulsion. He also noticed a heavy scar across the boy's right eye.

_Ironic._

----

With an annoyed grunt from Richard, he started on his way again. The moment he got on the subway, he noticed the man was watching his every move. At first the he had thought the gaze was curious pity like everyone else, but it changed into suspicion when the man followed him down the alleyway.

The man, if he wanted something from him, wouldn't be out long; so Richard started off as fast as he could toward his unknown destination. The chilly air felt good against his burning skin, but it also made him cold. He knew he had an illness along with his paralysis; it was growing steadily inside of him from the lack of antibiotics Bruce denied him.

With a ragged breath, Richard hunched his shoulders in frustration. He had no idea where to go. He was cold, sick, dying, and he had to piss like no other. At least if he had use of his legs, he could get by easily… but now-,

It was at that moment Richard felt something he promised himself never to feel; defeat and hopelessness.

He couldn't go to the Teen Titians with the small spark of anger toward them, nor could he go to Bruce with the knowledge his mentor actually considered letting him go. An orphanage was out of the question, he was almost sixteen and no one would care for him at that age, especially when he was in a wheelchair. And to top all that, he had Slade out here.

His options were limited so he had to pick. And he decided to go with the Teen Titans. There he could recoup in his own room and figure things out from there.

Pushing away his doubts and illness, Richard put his chin up and kept moving.

**--PA--**

William groaned when he rose from the unconsciousness. His whole head was shifting and humming in pain. The cold ground he laid upon wasn't helping the matter one bit. He opened his eyes and got on his hands in knees trying to get his senses to accommodate to the change in proceedings. That _child_ tricked him-,

"Its good to see you have finally gained consciousness, William." The voice sent chills running down his spine and his eyes slid up to the short roof in which a dark figure was crouching down low.

"Slade I-,"

"What have I told you about underestimating your opponents?" Slade murmured knowingly. William saw that Slade was dressed in his fighting gear with a ninja sword strapped on his back.

"I know. I underestimated Robin-,"

"Richard." Wintergreen's tongue grew heavy when Slade corrected him. "His name is Richard, Wintergreen. And he's not pathetic, nor is he a small defeated child." The older man swallowed back his retort and gave a nod. It was better to agree with Slade when his voice turned cold and short.

"I underestimated Richard, then. I apologize." Seeing that Slade wouldn't be jumping down anytime soon to help him up, Wintergreen got to his own feet and slid his palm against the wall for support. "I lost him- I don't know where he went." William panted and turned to look up at his old friend who seemed to be fading into the shadows. "Will you go after him?" Wintergreen murmured.

Seeing the man gone, William gave a sigh and started walking back the subway. "I told you I had things to gather. I won't be back for another day or so." Slade's voice was hushed, fading into the night. "Make yourself useful and get a room ready for my apprentice."


	6. Struggling Through Reality

**Chapter Six: Struggling Through Reality**

It didn't last long in the least, his energy.

His fingers were numb as they pushed the wheels to his chair forward and his nose was glowing red, definitely an eye sore. His eyes went cross eyed as he gazed at it. The weather outside wasn't exactly fitting for a sick teenager with thin hospital clothes. And the citizens leered in his direction. All he needed to do was suck up his nerves and call the Titans. Only then can he rest and come back at full force.

If that was even an option any longer.

The rain paused, only cold drizzle pierced at his fevered skin. Clouds covered the moon and neon lights from the shops were his only means of direction. Currently, he was paused in front of a small restaurant. His face looked stoically inside the window at the occupants enjoying a late meal with their friends or family. There was a small family consisting of a husband, wife, and a small little boy. They didn't have a care in the world, not until they stepped back out on the streets of Gotham for another defenseless night. They shouldn't be out at night. They should never put each other in danger like that. Who knows what monsters lurked the streets, waiting to claim their next vulnerable victim.

But they were also enjoying life to the fullest. That much was obvious with the little boy's red face as he laughed off his father's tickle to the sides.

A car pulled up behind him but Richard remained facing forward. He watched the reflection of the window as a man exited the slick car and soundlessly walked behind him. Somehow he knew the man would be here first. "Took you long enough." Richard whispered softly, soaking up the sight of the mother smoothing back the child's dark hair in a loving caress.

"You did not need to leave the hospital. I was picking you up first thing tomorrow morning, didn't you get my letter?" Richard squeezed the bars to his chair softly, but then his fingers remained limp. Almost in defeat. No, he didn't get the letter. Slade never gave it to him.

"Does it matter? I couldn't stand the hospital food any longer." He hid behind his mask… behind his words. It was far too difficult to act how he wished to around Bruce at the moment. He had no energy. The family inside the restaurant stood up and started to put on their coats. The woman didn't have luxury furs but a tattered brown trench coat that looked as if it could've been her husband's old one. It was obvious they were poor but that didn't stop them from buying enough warm layers for their son. The little boy was bundled up to his eyes and his fingers were covered with heavy gloves.

Even if they didn't have any money, they would still be targeted by villains, by criminals. "Lets get you home, Dick." Richard held his heavy tongue before he made a fool of himself for claiming it wasn't his home.

"Let's go home; I will make you a cup of hot chocolate." The mother took her son's hand and led him down the streets- her husband at her heels.

"Will you bring me back to the Titans tower if I desire it?" There was a pause from the man behind him. His tired eyes rose in the window to study the large frame. Bruce didn't show any slouch or weakness or vulnerability. He was the same man Richard remembered.

"For now, no." Bruce reached out a hand and curled it around the handles of the wheelchair. "I want to give you time to adapt to… your illness." Richard's lips twitched. It was such a small pause, barely noticeable, but he knew it was there.

He allowed himself to be steered toward the car. As he turned, he saw Alfred opening the trunk. "Hello Master Dick. It's good to see you again." His eyes didn't hold the pity Richard had thought him to hold; instead true sincerity swirled in those depths.

"Same to you, Alfred." His lids started to droop and Bruce lifted him out of his chair. Weariness ate at him as he was placed in the warm car.

A lone eye watched them from the top of the restaurant, a dark chuckle following their wake.

"I wanted to talk to you about my decision." Bruce started awkwardly. Although it would be amusing to try to hear Bruce scrape for words of apologies… Richard didn't want to hear it in the least.

"You made a mistake." Richard announced tiredly. He could always forgive but he could never forget. "Forget it, Bruce. I'm too tired to have this conversation." Before he knew it, he blacked out.

**--PA--**

His eyes snapped open and he groaned. The surroundings were familiar to him but the feeling of complete helplessness wasn't something he wanted to deal with. Ever. He couldn't get up with the sheets tucked so tightly around his body and he couldn't shut the blinds across the room that let in the blinding sun. Grimacing, his shoulders rotated in hopes of loosening the sheets. His body was still weak.

"Ah, you're awake." A man came into the room and Richard's blue eyes pierced in his direction. His heart rate rose at the stranger. "I am Robert Broke, a physician dealing with newly paralyzed victims. I've been hired by Mr. Wayne to help you through this time of need." He sounded like a damn physiatrist rather than a physician.

Richard's lips deepened into a frown. "I don't need anyone to help me."

"Ah, the first step is getting over your denial of the situation." The man had a tendency to say 'ah' with every sentence. His pale eyes were drilling back into Richard's own stare. "You can never walk again," Richard couldn't breathe. Whether it from the sheets or the ridiculous man. "Say it."

"You want me to say what, exactly?" He couldn't believe Bruce hired someone like this for him. Where was Alfred? Was this to be his new life? He closed his eyes and tried to picture his future. All he saw was the back of his eyelids.

"You can not walk. Say it and come to terms with it." The tone was soothing and calm.

Richard wondered how the man would be reacting if they traded places. He had a hunch that tone of voice would not be calm but hysterical. People tended to claim they knew how to sympathize with others in situations like this, but if the situation hadn't happened to them, they wouldn't know anything. Not a damn thing. The man was standing on two feet, he could walk to go to the bathroom, and he could walk to shut the damn blinds.

"I can't walk to the blinds and shut them." Richard hinted tiredly.

"Ah, good start, Richard, very good." He paused, not understanding Richard's underlying hint. "It's time for your meds, my boy." Cringing, Richard opened his eyes- blue narrowing into slits.

"You're drugging me." That was why he was so tired.

"Of course not. I'm simply giving you the necessary antibiotics and a few more drugs to help you." Coming closer, the man took the bottle from the bedside table and popped it open. His pale fingers gripped the water glass and came closer to the prone body in the bed. "Open up." The smile sent Richard's stomach to grumble unhappily. Nonetheless, he figured oblivion would be a better place then reality. Only in his dreams could he feel the sensation of his legs… of running, of living.

In a state of death, Richard laid in his bed, watching the sun rise in the sky.

**--PA--**

"I've arranged for the Titans to arrive here later on in the day. They've been worried about you." Bruce spoke up, breaking the silence at breakfast. It had been a week since Richard arrived at Wayne manor and nothing had changed. There was still the tense air between Bruce and him, the argument at the hospital never settled. The man was hardly home, for both Bruce Wayne and Batman were busy. There had been a robbery at the Wayne Enterprises; a few chemicals were stolen- but not enough to find out what the aim was for acquiring those substances.

Robert Broke had been Richard's shadow every minute of his waking. The man wasn't exactly what Richard expected him to be like. Ever since the first day they'd met, Robert hadn't done any physical therapy- he had simply just pampered Richard and tried to get him to open up about his _feelings_. Whenever Richard wanted to go to the bathroom, he was carried. When he was to shower, Robert would be right outside the curtain- waiting, pampering.

Over time, Richard had gotten used to this and took advantage of the man's presence. The only downside to this was the drugs he seemed to get every afternoon. The drugs didn't necessarily put him to sleep; it just placed him in a blank slate.

"Is Mr. Broke working with you?" Bruce asked, studying Richard's unemotional face. The boy reached for the orange juice but realized it was too far. He gave a pointed look toward Bruce who hesitated and then helped pour some into Richard's cup. Alfred was watching the two silently, frowning.

"Yes." He reached shakily to the cup but then placed his hand back on his lap. The food upon his plate was hardly touched. Not that it wasn't good, Alfred was a terrific chief. Mouth watering bacon still steamed from the pan, scramble eggs were fluffy and perfectly seasoned, and the pancakes were plump with delicious filling. Richard just wasn't hungry. He was never hungry. The coffee he usually devoured lay motionless, still full to the brim.

Why would he need coffee any longer? He didn't need the extra boost.

"I was looking at a school for you. They specialize in paralysis students and contain the necessities for the handicapped. They are rated at the top for their scholarship programs. Perhaps you can get into the criminal field; I know you would do wonderfully there." Bruce shoveled a piece of sausage in his mouth and avoided Richard's gaze.

"Where is this handicapped school?" Richard asked bitterly.

"Washington D.C." The man raised his chin to Richard's expression. "It would be a great opportunity for you, Dick."

"So I'm not allowed to go back to my team? You have no authority over that-,"

"And what will you do there? You can do _nothing_." The statement hit Richard hard and he looked back down at the dark coffee, the black liquid matching his mood. Bruce heaved a sigh, particularly because of Alfred's admonition stare. "I'm sorry, Dick, I didn't mean it like that."

But he was right. He couldn't do anything without the ability to walk. His team wouldn't rely on him like they used to and they certainly weren't at fault for that. "No, you're right. The school sounds fine." The two lapsed into another silence.

"Master Dick, are you not finding the food to your liking?" Alfred questioned. The old butler always asked the same question, every breakfast.

And every day, Richard was forced to say, "No Alfred, I'm just not hungry today."

"The team is in good hands with Tim." Richard tensed and his eyes slowly crawled up to Bruce's face.

"Tim? Who's Tim?"

He watched Bruce stiffen and place his cup of coffee back on the table. "I was meaning to tell you that during your absence, I took in another protégé." Richard felt hot pricks behind his eyes but his face remained stoic.

"Another Robin? And you held that information to yourself? Don't you think I have the right to know if there was another Robin out there?"

Bruce shook his head, the intractable light starting to form in his eyes. "You were away, Dick. Tim came to me and asked for help. He's a great student and a fast learner I didn't make a mistake by taking him under my wing." Richard cracked his jaw and his eyes went back to his cold breakfast. There was another Robin. Rather perfect, in fact, considering the boy could take his place now in the superhero world. He could be the only Robin; he would not need to compete any longer.

His weak arms pushed his chair backwards and wheeled toward the living room.

No matter how hard he tried to confront his emotions, they seemed to scurry beneath a solid wall and hide from his grasp.

He was numb as he stared out the window.

**--PA--**

Robert had helped him change and now left him by the window in his chair. He was awaiting the Titans arrival. He couldn't muster the feelings of anticipation at their arrival, instead, he was finding himself regretting that he allowed Bruce to set up this meeting. The issue with the Titans causing his paralysis was still an issue. Did he forgive them? Could he forgive them like he had Bruce, but not forget?

No, he couldn't do it. Because he did blame them for his fall, for disobeying his orders.

His head felt heavy and he laid it against the window. He found himself favoring windows over the past few days. It was easy to leave his troubles behind and just study the outside world. Even if it seemed dull to many other people, he found it fascinating to slip away from his conscious mind. "Robin?" His lids opened up and turned his attention toward the group who had just entered the room.

Unlike him, they didn't change in the least. Even Starfire had that happy glow in her eyes as she looked upon him. Bruce must've informed them of what happened, for they didn't seem appalled at the wheelchair he was sitting upon. Although Beast Boy was rather obvious as he stared at it. "We brought you a few video games, dude. You could use some fun in this dull room." Beast Boy handed him a plastic bag with a few games inside it.

His feeble hands shook pathetically as he reached out to take them. He ignored Raven's stare as he hurriedly set the bag on the ground before he could make a fool out of himself for dropping it all over. "Thanks." It seemed like ages since he'd last seen his team. They appeared like strangers in his eyes. But they shouldn't be, it was _his _team.

"I also baked you a delicious cake, friend Robin." Starfire gave him an unconvincing smile as she set down a rather lumpy cake on his lap. "When will you be coming back?" She blurted out, not in the least affected by her team's accused stares. "We all miss you."

Richard, not used to being called Robin, gazed down at the cake. They hadn't said anything about his true identity and they hadn't even touched the subject of his accident. "I won't be coming back, Star, I won't be useful."

Her mouth started to tremble. "But why?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Starfire had an unusual nativity around her. "Because I can never walk again." There, he said it and his voice never wavered. "I have trained you all in the best way I could, but it is time I leave you. I appoint Cyborg as the new leader." They all knew Cyborg was second but perhaps they never thought it would come to play.

Cyborg fidgeted his gaze looking at Raven. "That's great, Robin, but I think… we all agree that, well, that the new Robin should take the new position. He's a great leader, almost as good as you-," Cyborg went on but Richard shut him out as his gaze slid back out the window. His fingers played with the button on his chair and then he pressed it.

Robert came in the room. "Is everything alright, Richard?"

Cyborg paused, his gaze sliding over to the man who had interrupted him. "I think its time for my meds, Robert." Richard stated coldly, the cake on his lap felt odd sitting there. He couldn't feel it. He loathed it. "I apologize for cutting our visit short, you guys, but I'm not feelings well at the moment."

They nodded, looking uncomfortable. Starfire moved first, her green eyes full of tears. "Goodbye Robin." She bent down to place a kiss to his temple.

"I will see you all again." Richard spoke up, "Have no doubt about it." He ended quietly.

Receiving pats on the back from Cyborg and Beast Boy, they followed after Starfire. Raven and Robert only remained in the room with a blank Richard. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice coming out unusually soft. "If there is anything I could do-,"

"Just leave." Richard answered her plea. He avoided her eyes and favored the window. She didn't leave though, she stood there.

"Where is the Robin I know?" Raven spoke up, stepping closer. "Look at you; you're not the same anymore. That spark you had for life is no longer there, you've given up totally."

Whirling around to face the girl, he shook his head with a smile upon his face. "What do you expect me to do, Raven? Everything I held dear to me is gone; it was taken away from me. I can't walk any longer I can't do anything I used to do. Sorry if I make you uncomfortable with the lack of zeal I hold for life." He dismissed her by shutting her out.

She made her way out the door but her parting words hovered in the room. "The Robin I knew wouldn't let that stop him."

Richard took the meds Robert gave him and allowed the man to place him in bed without raising a finger himself. Blank eyes watched his shadow leave the room. "But I am no longer Robin."

**--PA--**

"It's all there." The cold blue eye narrowed as the man flipped through the money. "You have already wasted my time counting it once." The figure in the shadows stopped counting the cash in mid number and positioned it back in the case. He had no desire to antagonize the man in front of him.

"Alright." He nodded his head in approval, ready to leave the eerie building.

Before he could exit, a strong hand curled itself around his bicep and roughly slammed him against the wall. "You understand what is expected of you?"

"Yes, yes, I've followed your orders this far, I will not fail you. Please." He begged like a starved animal and took a relieved breath as the mercenary let him go.


End file.
